The Dance of The Veela
by satbiym
Summary: Listen, Victor has a lot on his plate, not only is he dealing with the dreaded Veela Maturity in a den of iniquity (ahem Hogwarts ahem), but he also has to find an appropriate Consort for his upcoming Veela Maturity Ball, held during the Winter Solstice, amongst the hundreds of people he is surrounded by everyday. But How Does He Know? A Fairy Tale in 4 Parts.
1. Chapter 1

Victor's eyes surveyed the hall.

"Looking for something?" A familiar voice piped up next to him.

Lips quirking, but eyes still searching, Victor hummed noncommittally. Like predicted, it was enough to catch Chris by surprise and get his attention.

"Wait." Chris said, sounding incredulous, "Someone has caught your eye? In Merlin's name, _who_?"

Victor finally turned to Chris with bright blue eyes, and he could feel tendrils of excitement bleed into his voice as he said with barely restrained glee, "I don't know! Isn't it amazing?!"

* * *

" _Vitya, darling, you have to be careful. Veela maturity will be unlike anything you've ever experienced before."_

* * *

"Okay. Spill."

With those words, Chris, Mila and Yuri swung to look at him expectantly.

Victor forced himself to relax into his seat. He looked at the view of the underbelly of the Great Lake from his seat. A mermaid waved at him. He waved back.

"Victor." Chris said placidly.

Yuri rolled his eyes, "Why am I here again? I don't give a fuck what's up with His Royal Forehead!"

Mila snorted incredulously.

Yuri reddened, "I don't!"

"Methinks the lad doth protesteth too much." Chris quipped, enjoying the conflict like the sadistic bastard he was deep down under the thick layers of hair-dye and sexual deviance (or maybe just the layers of hair dye, come to think of it).

Yuri growled, feral, and lunged forward, only to be held back by Chris's hand to the forehead as Chris examined his nails, bored.

"Calm down, Kitty. Right now, we're harassing Victor. We'll get to you later."

Victor rather thought the sound Yuri made could be heard till the Owlery.

Unable to keep it in any longer, Victor leaned forward and whispered, every note in his voice vibrating with barely restrained excitement, "This is the year. I am going to have my Debut this Winter Solstice."

At this proclamation, even Yuri forgot to swipe at Chris.

In unison, the three swung back to stare at Victor.

"What." Yuri spit out.

Victor bounced slightly in his green couch, as he said, words tripping over themselves, "I am to become a full Veela this Winter break."

Chris was the first one to snap out of the haze Victor's words had created, as he whisper-yelled, "Congratulations!"

Yuri snorted derisively, "Why are you whispering, idiot?"

Mila made a face at him, and she gently chid him, "It has to be a secret, silly. What do you think will happen if everyone in Hogwarts knew about Victor's Veela status? Being a Vilenik is a huge honor! And to you know how damn thirsty everyone is for Victor. Can you imagine the riots?"

"Ew." Yuri said succinctly.

Victor huffed faux-modestly, running his hands through his long silver hair, "Aw. don't worry Yura, I'm sure you'll be the recipient of your fair share of riots as well...eventually. But if you ever need tips on how to - "

"SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP, OLD MAN!" Yuri shouted over Mila and Chris's screams of laughter.

Once they had calmed down slightly, Yuri leaned in, voice comically low, "So, you become a chicken at Winter Solstice. What's the big deal about that?"

Mila giggled, "Honestly Yura, what are they teaching you down in Fourth Year? Don't you know that he now needs to choose a Consort to be his Vilenik? You can't expect him to dance alone at his own Maturity Ball!"

Yuri said, "Eh?"

Victor leaned back as he let the voices rush by his ears. His bones hurt. It would probably become worse the closer he got to the Solstice. Amongst other things.

But he could deal with all that and more.

Now he just needed to find a Consort to dance with at his Debut.

In a castle full of hormonal teens with romantic expectations born of the latest Witch Weekly issue.

Easy.

* * *

" _A Vilenik is someone who is Blessed by the Veelas. It's also the name we give to the Consort of a Veela. Because being chosen by a Veela results in the best blessing of all."_

* * *

Victor swung his legs behind him, as he laid on his stomach on his bed, wondering how he was going swing this whole Veela Maturity Ball business. He was going to need to do...a lot, while being weak because of Veela puberty. Victor had never been the kind of person who excelled at logistics, he was more of a big picture person.

Hmm.

Victor huffed, and laid his head on his arms, and faced the only other person in the Seventh year Slytherin boys dormitory. But Chris seemed to be preparing for something, writing furiously on a parchment with zealous fervour.

Victor distantly wondered what that was all about, maybe Chris hadn't finished his summer homework?

Victor sat up as a quiet knock reverberated through the room.

Chris brightened, and hopped over to open it. Yuri and Mila's face popped in, each clutching their pillows. Yuri's patterned with robot cats, and Mila's with what appeared to be...knives? Victor squinted to check.

Okay then.

Victor kept his face smooth, wondering what his friends were planning. Yuri, Mila and Chris sat on Chris's bed and faced Victor.

They stared at him for a second, and Victor stared back quizzically.

"So, what's the game plan?"

Victor looked over at Chris, still confused.

Victor blinked, "What do you mean?"

Chris looked at him in fond exasperation, "You didn't think we weren't going to help did you? We're here for you every step of the way."

Victor's eyes widened. For the whole summer, he had been wracking his mind trying to figure out how to do the whole process alone, and now Chris was talking as though it was a given that they would help?

Victor felt something swell within him, something that left him warm and choked up.

Damn hormones.

Instead of letting on what Chris's words meant to him, Victor said slowly, unsure for the first time in a long time, "Are you sure, it's not going to be easy. You could get hurt. If people discover what I am….it will be risky, helping me."

Mila smiled, sharp and dangerous, "That's what I like to hear."

Yuri rolled his eyes, "What, you think I snuck over from the Hufflepuff dormitory for _easy?_ I eat danger like pirozhki, Old Man!"

Chris smiled gently at Victor, "What little Yura is trying to say, is….we don't care today, and we won't care tomorrow. Count us in."

* * *

" _Love is all around us, Vitya. It sustains us. Love is what we turn to when we have a dream too large to bear alone. Find that kind of love, and never let go."_

* * *

Victor smiled, a small, trembling thing.

And he nodded jerkily, lips falling into a smile.

Chris nodded in return, appeased at Victor's agreement, and reached behind him to get the sheaf of parchment he had been furiously working on prior to the rendezvous. Chris fingered his wand consideringly, and with a powerful sweep of his arm, cleared an entire section of the dormitory wall, as the rest watched on in confusion.

Chris twirled his wand, muttering under his breath as the parchment floated to the wall and stuck to it; he then walked over to his bag and pulled out a Quick Quotes Quill. He sucked on the nib and threw it at the wall, only for it to stop before the stuck parchments, ready.

Chris turned, and with an air of authority said, "So. What do you need. Tell me every single thing you know about the process."

Victor, still confused, spoke, "As you know, a Veela has a Maturity Ball once in their lifetime. It's a sign that they are officially an adult. So, to celebrate it, they pick one person as their Consort and Bless them and make them a Vilenik. This person is their partner for the Debut dance of the Veela."

Chris nodded pensievely, and the sound of quill scratching the parchment stopped.

"And then?" Yuri said.

Victor looked back helplessly, and clutched his hair, winding his long hair around his wrist, "That's all I know! They said I would learn as I experienced it, and that it's "part of the process!""

Yuri sneered, "Are you fucking kidding me? That's all we have to go on?!"

Victor nodded sadly, then perked up, "Oh! And I'll need a Chaperone as soon as I identify someone I'd like as my Consort."

"Fucking useless." Yuri muttered.

Mila swatted at the back of Yuri's head, and smiled at Victor. "It's okay, it'll be fun! Like a surprise!"

Slowly, Victor smiled as well.

A surprise.

Yes.

Chris hummed, unmoved.

"So, first things first, we need a to-do list." Chris said with a feverish gleam in his eyes.

Uh-oh.

"Great. Chris "Stationerdy" Giacometti has joined the party." Yuri muttered darkly.

"Oh hush. You'll understand when you're older!" Chris said blithely.

"I'll understand how you look waay too happy in a stationary store when I'm older? I think not. I'm not a perv like you - " Yuri's screeches were cut off by a quick hand over his mouth as Mila furiously hushed him.

"People can't know we're here, silly. Hush."

Yuri hissed at her.

But quietened all the same.

Chris moved on as if nothing had transpired, probably used to it, given the frequency of this exact exchange over the last four years.

"So, how do you choose who will be your Consort?" He asked Victor.

Victor's cheeks flushed with excitement, as he eagerly chittered, "I don't know! I am guessing it has something to do with how they respond to my Allure. Because what's more Veela than Allure, right?!"

Chris raised a skeptical eyebrow, "So, your grand plan is to Veela drug them until something clicks?"

Victor then noticed the way Mila and Yuri were side-eyeing him and unconvincingly drew out, "No…?"

Yuri face-palmed.

"Okay. Okay." Chris said with exhausted finality, "While we were waiting, I made a list of everyone fifth year or above who is unattached. Now, do you want to widen the net?"

Victor flinched, "No. I would rather dance alone than use my Allure on someone that young."

Mila giggled, "I bet you wouldn't even have to use your Allure, Victor."

Victor rolled his eyes good-naturedly, and said, "Nonetheless. That's too young for me."

Chris nodded.

And they all turned towards the long list of three people.

Geez, was everyone _but_ Victor in a relationship?!

Victor turned to his friends to see them exchanging looks over his head.

"What?" he asked, suspicious.

"Nothing." They chimed in unison.

Victor narrowed his eyes.

Chris broke first, "It's just….it doesn't look too promising. I'm not even sure about the last name. He's a mystery. He could be married for all we know!"

"He is not!" Yuri snapped quickly.

Too quickly.

They turned to him deviously, situation forgotten in favor of a nobler purpose.

"Aw, does ickle Yura have a crussssh?" Mila drawled.

Yuri turned red at an alarming pace, and he backed away slowly, "N-No! What would- I have Never - I woULD NOT - not With - _How dare -_ Crush! If crush meant crush. Then yeah, I would like to crush him! With my fists! STOP LAUGHING, ASSHOLES!"

* * *

THE LIST OF POTENTIAL CONSORTS

Seung Gil Lee

Phichit Chulanont

Yuuri Katsuki

* * *

Chris still giggled from time to time, a soft thing that ruffled Victor's hair, from where it laid on Chris's chest. They were spread over each other on the Slytherin dorm room floor, even prickly Yura had curled into Mila's arms, as they stared up at the Wall of Decisions - a mess of parchment joined by colourful thread (Victor had no idea what the threads signified, but Mila wanted to make something like in that Muggle Auror show she had watched over the break), with a Quick Quotes Quill ready to take notes.

Surrounded by his friends, laughter and with the possibility of a Consort on the horizon, Victor felt at peace.


	2. Chapter 2

His wand buzzed under his pillow.

Victor bit back a groan, still half-asleep. But today wasn't the day for that.

Today he Had A Plan.

* * *

" _Veela rings of deep thick grass are left where we have danced; these should never be trodden upon, as this brings bad luck."_

* * *

Victor scanned the Great Hall looking for someone who looked like their name could be Seung Gil Lee, only for his eyes to meet large brown ones across the hall.

Victor tilted his head slightly as those eyes widened, somehow making them even larger.

He waved.

The owner of those eyes seemed to choke on air.

Victor wondered distantly if he should be calling for help. But it seemed like the Gryffindors had it handled, if the way the boy was enthusiastically pounded on his back was any indication.

Huh, crisis averted.

Victor moved on looking for someone who looked like a Seung Gil Lee, all thoughts of pretty brown eyes and boys who choked on air put in the back-burner.

"That one, Idiot."

And with that a hand turned Victor's head stealthily towards a boy sitting at the Ravenclaw table.

Victor smiled up at an irritated Yuri and brightly said, "Thank you, Yura!"

"Tchh, whatever."

And with that Yuri walked away, leaving Victor to his prey.

Victor shivered. This was a fun game.

Now, he just needed to go over there and charm the boy until he couldn't remember his own name.

He got up, aware of the eyes the motion drew, and sauntered over to the Ravenclaw table.

This would be like taking candy from a muggle baby.

He slid next to the boy, and waited.

A beat.

Two.

Victor blinked, and regrouped. Okay, so he was shy! No problem! Victor could do some of the heavy lifting! What's a little forwardness for true love.

"Hey." Victor said, jerking his head up slightly, a slight smirk on his face, a silent challenge, just like those heart-throbs in the Quidditch magazines.

Only...only, the boy kept eating. Just as silent as before.

Victor needed reinforcements.

Victor looked around for Chris panickedly, only for Chris to make gentle "go-on" gestures with his hands silently from his spot at the Slytherin table with an entertained looking Yuri and Mila.

Confidence.

All the magazines said confidence was key.

 _You can do this, Victor! You are a strong, independent Veela! And cute to boot! You also have a dog!_

"You have a dog?"

Victor startled, only to come face-to-face with a face that looked similar to how his pre-Hogwarts Arithmetic tutors used to look.

Unimpressed.

Had he said the last part out loud?

Didn't matter. Victor decided to run with it.

"Yes! Want to see pictures?"

The face shifted. It didn't become warmer or softer, but it seemed like Victor was disappointing him a little less with his continued presence in the world.

Victor could work with that, and pulling out his wallet, he grinned brightly.

* * *

" _A Veela's voice during Allure is as beautiful as the rest of them, and one who hears it loses all thought of food, drink or sleep, at times, for days._ "

* * *

"I really wanted to bring Makka over with me to Hogwarts. She misses me you know, when I'm gone. But the rules don't allow it. I even snuck her in my fifth year, but she was discovered immediately and my moms had to come and get her." Victor babbled, as he walked (!) Seung Gil to his class.

"I think those rules are ridiculous." Seung Gil said in response, somehow, despite his straight face, managing to imbue those simple words with the sharp lethality of a Basilisk.

Victor blinked, vaguely disturbed despite not knowing why.

The hallways had cleared slightly.

This was his chance.

Now, while Victor had spoken a good game about using his Allure before with his friends….he hadn't been entirely truthful on his level of expertise, or even at all. The truth was that despite Victor being a Veela for all his life, he hadn't exactly used his Allure...ever.

In his defense, he had never needed to!

A quick flick of his long silver hair and a coy look from under his eyelashes were usually all he had needed!

But, Victor thought gamely, there's a first time for everything. Victor took a deep, steadying breath, and focused, trying to reach for his magical core.

But like a recalcitrant child, it resisted.

Victor almost huffed out loud. This was harder than it seemed, and to think his books made it look so effortless.

Seung Gil and he walked in silence, as Victor wrestled with his inner magic. Victor thanked his stars that he didn't have to pretend to make small talk with Seung Gil on top of the Allure business. It left him to focus on what was really important.

His magic.

A growing discontent in his stomach made itself apparent the more Victor struggled to demand his magic follow his wishes. It was like that game his uncle used to play with him when he was younger, wherein he had to open his uncle's clenched fists. But no matter how hard he tried, the fist wouldn't open. Until he had had enough and tickled his uncle in the ribs, claiming victory when his uncle's soft giggles left him weak to Victor's assault.

Victor blinked.

That's it!

Sometimes, Victor thought with a smile, the answer wasn't brute force, but to trick the other person into doing what you wanted, either that or by tickling the enemy until they waved the white flag.

Victor tried again, and in his mind's eye he could see his mental energy approach the glowing, blue flame that was Victor's magical core, and surrounding it securely, until the blue flame unclenched slightly. Tendrils of magical energy unfurled, and suddenly the core that had seemed static with tension, seemed to _flow._ The blue-green tendrils of energy dancing around the core, seemingly playing, but never straying too far from the center. Like a blooming flower, the core slowly opened up, with its lace-like tendrils skating through the air like butter.

It was _beautiful_.

Victor felt almost guilty for upsetting it. But he thought, as he glanced at the stoic face walking next to him, it was needed.

So, he pushed his mental energy to sop up some of the tendrils and coaxed them away from the core; they seemed reluctant, they didn't want to leave their friends. Victor didn't blame them. But with a heavy heart, he tightened his grip on the tendrils, who were now keening with distress, and _pushed._

Victor could smell flowers.

With a churning stomach, he looked at Seung Gil who looked like he'd been struck across the face with a tree.

Bingo.

Victor smiled, and angling his body towards Seung Gil, and opened his mouth.

Only to close his mouth with a visible _clack_ as bile rushed into it.

Victor _ran._

"Wait. Where are you going?! Let me tell you about _my_ dog!" he could hear those words mockingly echo in Hogwart's stoned hallways.

He was going to be sick.

Victor rushed into the bathroom, shouldering past the door door violently, and stumbled across the closest toilet and….paid his respects to the porcelain gods.

Time became immaterial as his body betrayed him repeatedly, long hair lined with sweat, throat clenching and unclenching with violent fervour, and mouth aflame with acidity. Victor's hands which were holding his hair to the nape of his neck were weak as a newborn babe's, and just as white. Even without the bile, his body seemed intent on re-creating the moment repeatedly as he gagged dryly, stomach twisting and the back of his throat a sudden enemy.

"What are _you_ doing in my bathroom?!" A shrill voice that hurt his ears shrieked.

Victor tightened his fingers in his beloved hair as another wave hit him, and the voice shrieked on.

The door, to the unfortunate bathroom Victor has chosen to bare his shame to, opened. The shrieks seemed to have attracted attention.

Look at the mighty and beautiful Veela. More beautiful than the gods themselves.

Victor could feel traitorous tears gather up at the corner of his eyes as he dry heaved.

And let the mortals behold the glory of the famed Victor Nikiforov.

Victor was tired.

He _hurt_.

Victor gasped at the remnants of his shame, and gasped some more. It seemed the worst had passed. And twas a good thing at that, the shrieking seemed to only be getting louder and louder.

Victor wiped his mouth gingerly, fingers that had been previously gripping his hair tightly weak and trembling with the lack of blood flow, and resisted the urge to slump back.

But the audience was not going to take care of itself, especially not after finding such a juicy piece of gossip.

Victor pushed himself up carefully, knees popping embarrassingly (it seemed his entire body was trying to humiliate him today), and fingered his wand.

He brought it out, and aimed towards the pot, aware of the gaze of his unseen audience.

Victor summoned his magical core, and whispered the spell, too tired for wandless magic.

Only, nothing happened.

Victor could feel his face crumple as his magic ( _his magic)_ failed to respond to him for the first time since he was a green first year, transfiguring matchsticks into needles.

Oh gods above and below, why wasn't his magic working?

The hand holding his wand trembled, as Victor called forth his magical core brusquely, exhausted and on the edge.

But the wand in his hand might as well have been a stick for all the good it did.

"I _asked, just what do_ _you_ _think you are doing? Coming to_ _my_ _bathroom and dirtying it! You-"_ the shrill voice continued, feeling like needles in Victor's eardrums. And it didn't seem to be running out of steam anytime soon. Victor braced himself for the incoming assault.

"That's enough, Myrtle." A quiet voice sounded. But for all the calmness of the command, it rang true with what it was - a command. The voice radiated strength, and instead of it echoing through the large bathroom, it seemed to get pleasantly absorbed into the stones in the walls. It sounded like the summer sun on Victor's face.

Victor turned back, curious despite himself, only to come face-to-face with familiar brown eyes. Those brown eyes from breakfast.

Oh.

Those eyes looked back steadily, a tightness in the corners belying the loose but straight posture. Victor allowed himself to let his eyes run over the mysterious figure, now that he _had_ sunk to rock bottom what more was there to conceal?

He had the bearing of someone used to consciously changing his form, Victor realized, he held himself as if he was all too aware of the power his body welded. His arms were loose by his side, fingers curled into his palms innocently, shoulders were straight but deceptively harmless looking, and if Victor hadn't heard the steel in his voice a moment ago, he himself might have been fooled into writing this boy off as ordinary.

But, it seemed like with this brown-eyed boy you had to look a little bit closer. At the tension held in the eyes of the svelte and lithesome frame. At the feet that looked ready to lunge at the next threat, as opposed to the pink petaled lips.

And those eyes.

No one who had eyes like that was ordinary.

And Victor was _glad,_ glad for the now silent ghost of the witch floating nervously by the boy's side, eagerly awaiting his next command, glad for the opportunity to see the unmasking. An unmasking less dramatic, but no less important, than his own.

"W-would you like a chocolate?" The voice asked.

Victor tried to frown but found his face muscles too tired to be up for the task. But his suspicion seemed clear to the other boy, who then reached into his robes with clumsy fingers, Victor drew back for even the movement was much too quick for his tired eyes, only for the boy to emerge with his find.

A chocolate frog, still in the wrapping.

The boy offered it to Victor, movements still too abrasive for Victor's suddenly hypersensitive eyes.

Victor raised an incredulous eyebrow, or tried to at least.

Did he think Victor was that out of his mind to accept candy from a Gryffindor? When they were alone in a bathroom? Without witnesses?

Despite the war being a thing of the history books, old wounds and grudges lingered still. There was a reason Victor and Chris were the only boys in the Slytherin Seventh Year. Victor might be weak, but he wasn't that rattled.

The boy huffed out an impatient breath, and while maintaining eye contact with Victor, opened the frog in front of Victor, and before the frog could wiggle away, in one fatal swoop ate the head of the frog, who then stilled.

Well. that was just rude.

Only...only, with those brown eyes still on Victor, he extended the beheaded frog towards Victor again.

Oh.

Victor reached forward, stumbling a little, but the boy to his credit didn't move, hand still extended.

Careful not to brush fingers, and with eyes on the boy, _incase he tried anything funny,_ Victor told himself, he ate the frog.

Victor's fingers stopped shaking. His eyes slipped shut without his permission and the ringing in his ears quietened slightly.

When Victor opened his eyes, he found a soft look on the other boy's face who immediately schooled his expression before Victor could further examine it, and said, in a low voice, almost like the kind children used when sharing secrets with the magical safety of a blanket over their heads, "I am going to draw my wand now. Is that alright?"

Victor wanted to object, but if that was the precursor to a curse, it was the best invitation he had ever gotten. Plus, a rebellious part of him quivered, he wanted to see what this boy would do next. He nodded slowly.

With eyes still locked on Victor's, the boy took out a beautiful wand made with entwined wood and with a delicate grace, like his body was conducting a symphony rather than magic, twirled it wordlessly.

A sixth year or higher, then. For him to be casting wordless charms. He could be a seventh year, but Victor felt a bone deep discomfort at the thought that he had once seen and forgotten this boy. Felt like handing back his Slytherin card, for surely even as he was Before, he would have recognized that careful strength?

It seemed impossible that this boy existed within reach and Victor had dismissed him as unimportant. Victor felt like he could find him by sight in a crowded stadium, by sound in the middle of a cacophony, and sense him by the strength of his presence.

Surely, surely, his eyes knew better than to slide away from this boy?

No. Victor was certain he had never chanced upon him, for even at his lowest he was unable to look away.

Victor blinked, forcing himself away from his introspection, and made himself take roll call.

To recap, He had lost his careful grip on his Allure, and also his dignity.

And now he was in front of a beautiful boy smelling of vomit and despair.

"Urgh, that's much better, that smell was making my head hurt." A cloyingly sweet voice piped up, echoing.

Victor flinched.

He had forgotten The Ghost.

Victor glared at Myrtle, for even he had heard about the ghost of the girl who was murdered and now lived to make everyone else regret it. Something deep within him railed at the possession in her voice.

And before he could think it through, he said flatly, "You can't smell anything. You are dead."

A beat.

And then Myrtle screamed, livid with rage, as fat tears rolled down her eyes, "You think I don't know that?! _You_ come in with your long silver hair and blue eyes, and think you can -"

"Myrtle."

Victor bit back a shiver. The Voice had returned.

He looked at the other boy with relief, only to see him stare back, disappointed.

 _In Victor._

"You shouldn't - She knows her situation better than anyone else, don't you think?" The boy said, all traces of that soft unfamiliar expression gone.

Victor, for the first time in a long while, felt a bone-deep sense of _shame._ The waves in his stomach toiled and raged with renewed fervour. Of course, Myrtle knew her situation better than anyone else. And damn if Victor didn't find himself sympathizing with her.

The boy's expression was still shuttered, as he looked at Victor, and Victor found himself wishing for the careful tension of before. At least that didn't result in his stomach trying to crawl out of his body.

The boy nodded, and bowed slightly.

"I hope you feel better, Victor."

And then he walked away, Myrtle floating behind him.

The door shut behind him.

Leaving Victor alone in a vomit-stained bathroom.

Victor sighed, and turned back ready to try his hand at magic again, only to find a pristine, clean-smelling bathroom.

He remembered the magic the boy had cast when he had been too busy admiring his form.

Victor pressed his hand to the center of his thumping chest, and felt strangely breathless.

* * *

" _But mama, how will I know? If it's the right person?"_

 _A smile, too knowing for Victor's tastes, "You'll know."_


	3. Chapter 3

Victor felt like he was floating on air without a broom. Somehow in his haze he had managed to get from the bathroom to the Slytherin Seventh Year Boys Dormitory. Victor's nerves were aflame, his heart was still thudding, and his ears ringing (although on closer inspection that seemed to be a unwelcome remnant of Myrtle's shrieks).

Victor all but flopped on his four-poster bed, fingers still twitching from time-to-time, and magic quivering. His core felt jittery. Victor arched off the bed and stretched, eager for his magic to settle in, so he could focus on the bigger, brown-eyed surprise.

"The meeting with Seung Gil went _that_ well, huh?" A familiar, silky voice piped up from the bed opposite to his.

Victor flinched, eyes flying open.

Chris was grinning like a Cheshire cat, on his bed, head popped up with the help of his hand, his reading glasses on, and a thick tomb in his hands.

Victor laughed uncomfortably, he had forgotten about Seung Gil entirely, and said, "Stop reading like that Chris, your eyes will get ruined."

Chris just laughed.

Whatever, Victor wasn't Chris's mother. He bit down on further admonitions with great difficulty.

"So." Chris drew out excitedly, swinging up gracefully, and folded his legs, he leaned forward with a gleam in his eye, "How did it go with Seung Gil?"

Victor leaned back, and considered the questions. Tasting it until it aligned with what he wanted to say. Chris waited patiently, as Victor sorted his thoughts. Victor felt his magic settle further, secure in the knowledge that it would be safe, under Chris's kind gaze, and that security blooming in his chest was what prompted him into spilling his guts for the second time that day, only this time the vomiting was more of the verbal kind (but somehow more vulnerable), as Victor rushed to convey the day's happening in a way that made sense. But seeing as how he himself didn't quite understand his emotions, his retelling might have been less than coherent.

Chris's widened eyes were his only reaction; an apt, albeit understated one at that. Victor felt like if his soul itself manifested right now, it would be nothing but a disembodied set of cartoonishly wide eyes.

"So, wait. Let me get this straight. You _didn't_ seduce Seung Gil." Chris said, voice flat.

Victor nodded.

"And you felt sick right afterwards." Chris said, voice more unimpressed than before.

Victor nodded again, meeker.

"And you met some boy whose name you _didn't manage to get_ and fell in love with him." Chris finished, incredulous and disbelieving.

Victor felt like protesting both emotions, but even by his standards the day seemed bizarre.

Victor, instead of trying to verbalize the emotions twisting and turning in his chest, just brought his hands up, made a face and shrugged.

Chris's right eyelid twitched. Victor, knowing that look keenly, braced himself, bringing his hands up to protect his face.

But, just as Chris prepared his ammunitions, Victor was saved from Chris pelting him with pillows by a knock on the door.

They stopped and looked at each other, and with a silent agreement born of years of friendship decided to put the pillow fight on hold.

Chris removed his glasses, and hid them under the case under his pillow, as Victor straightened and made himself presentable.

But before they could go and open the door, the door swung open, revealing a grinning Mila and annoyed Yuri.

Victor slumped back into his bed, glad to not have to play pretend.

"Honestly Yura, what if Victor or I had been in the middle of the throes of passion when you barged in?" Chris said. But not with a tone that implied that he was particularly upset by the possibility, but more that of anticipation and future plans.

Yuri looked like he wanted to puke, Victor could sympathize (thought for different reasons), and succinctly said, "Ew."

Mila rolled her eyes, and waved her hand, "Whatever, Yura learn some manners, Chris don't corrupt minors. Now onto the interesting bit - Victor, how did it go?"

Victor groaned as Chris explained the whole story.

"Wow." Mila said.

Yuri looked like even he couldn't hide his interest in the story, but that might have been because of the copious amounts of humiliation and throwing up involved on Victor's part.

Chris hummed, and contemplatively asked, "Why do you think you got sick?"

Victor shrugged. He had been wondering the very same thing. He had not been feeling unwell and had not eaten anything that could have given him food poisoning.

Yuri shrugged, "Who cares, probably ate something bad. Tell me about the ghost again!"

But now Mila was also looking intrigued, "So, wait. You said you felt fine until you used your Allure right? Have you gotten sick any other time you used your allure?"

Victor felt embarrassment crawl up his neck, at being caught in his attempt at obfuscation.

"This was the first time I have ever used it. The Allure." He admitted, shame-faced.

"What." Yuri intoned.

Victor suddenly felt the need to defend himself, "I never needed it before! People just…..do what I ask without it just fine!"

"Oh, geez." Yuri said with disgust as Mila and Chris snickered.

"Ok, ok! So maybe you're doing it wrong." Mila suggested, to Victor's outrage, and he fixed her a Look.

"I know, I know" Mila said mischievously, and with exaggerated dramatics, flipped her red hair behind her, and said in a strange voice, "I'm the wizarding world's living legend and best Duelist in all the lands. You should see my medals." And then she winked. Ridiculously.

Victor was confused before he Got It.

" ." He said. He didn't sound like that.

Right?

But his sarcastic faux-laughter was drowned out by Yuri's much louder bark of laughter, and Chris's softer giggles.

"Encore! Encore!" Chris said, patting the back of his hand with the other hand, like he was at the bloody Opera.

Mila bowed.

Victor could feel the conversation slowly getting out of hand.

"So. Wait. Do you still feel weak and sick?" Yuri said, sounding somber, uncharacteristically bringing the conversation back on track.

Victor hesitatingly nodded.

Yuri's eyes steeled. And he strode forward, and started poking Victor with his wand.

"Eh?" Victor said as Yuri started checking his teeth.

Mila smiled softly, "Oh, let him have his peace of mind. Yuri is going to be a Magical Creatures Healer someday, you know."

"Eh?" Victor said, as Yuri played with some bright magiced blue lights over Victor's chest. Victor squinted, was that his heartbeat?

When had that happened? Why did Victor not know about Yuri's desire to become a Magical Creatures Healer?

First the brown eyed boy whose name Victor didn't know, and now this, what else had he missed?

"Oh, hush you. These spells are safe for humans and Veela as well." Yuri gently chided.

Victor's eyes widened, he hadn't even considered _that_ part.

"Say, aren't you a wee bit too young to do this, Yura?" Chris said carefully.

Yuri rolled his eyes, "Please. When have I ever done something halfway, Chris? Baldy here is safe with me."

Victor felt disproportionately reassured.

Finally, Yuri leaned back, a complicated look on his face, and said, "It's Allure Sickness."

"Huh?" The rest of them said.

Yuri looked at them, annoyed, and said matter-of-factly, "Honestly, don't you all read? The Veela books hinted at it, but I didn't think - anyway. All Magic, even natural magic like that of Veelas and dragons, comes at a cost. And Allure is no exception. So, whenever Victor uses it, depending on the intensity and range of it, he too will suffer. He'll get sick, his joints will ache, and his senses will feel hypersensitive. Thought I think some of those symptoms have to do with the Veela Maturity itself."

Victor's eyes widened.

For a second there, Yuri seemed….different, older.

He looked at Chris and Mila, who were looking just as awed.

"Any questions?" Yuri barked, clearly embarrassed by the looks on the other's faces.

They all quickly shook their heads.

Yuri sighed wearily and nodded.

"Judging by the fiasco with Seung Gil, I don't think your Veela is compatible with him anyway. So, I suppose Phichit is next?" Yuri continued.

Victor felt his core unsettle at the thought, and loudly declared, "No! I've already found who I want to be my Consort."

Mila made a soft sound in her throat, "The chocolate boy? Victor I don't think….You don't even know his name…"

Victor could feel stubbornness creep into his heart, "Yes. Him. No one else is right for me. Not Phichit or that other guy."

Yuri who had been viewing the proceeding with a detached interest, like a scientist looking at lab mice, suddenly swung around to look at Victor, and said sounding aghast, "How do _you_ not know Yuuri Katsuki?" in the tones of someone saying, "How do you not know Harry Fucking Potter?"

Victor felt his brow quirk in surprise, he had never seen Yura so positively impassioned about another person. He wanted to know more, so Victor being Victor, he blythely said, "I don't see what's so great about him, that's all."

Yuri looked like he was ready to violate his future Healer's Oaths and have a throwdown with Victor right then, right there.

Victor grinned internally, and looked at the others, only to see similar looks on their faces.

He jerked back, what had he said?

There was a tense silence for a second, before Chris slowly said, with the preciseness of a blade, "You have never met Yuuri Katsuki. I would know if you had. Stop trying to needle Yura, Victor."

Victor blinked at being caught, and cocked his head; just who was this guy? To have so many protectors? Even among Victor's own friends?

He laughed uneasily, "Yes. Yes. You're right. I'm sorry, Yura. Forgive me?" and he pouted up at an annoyed Yuri, but the annoyance was the familiar kind, not the strange one from before.

Yuri huffed.

The tense atmosphere passed.

"So. What do we do now, do we focus on Phichit?" Mila asked.

"No." Victor said firmly.

"Victor…" Chris said sympathetically, "If your chocolate boy is not on the list, then he probably is already….with someone."

Victor's eyes widened. He felt something in his chest collapse. He hadn't considered that. But why hadn't he? The other boy was beautiful and kind and brave, who wouldn't...who wouldn't kill to have him as theirs?

Victor certainly would.

Victor tried to tell himself that he was okay. He had never had anyone before, and he was okay with the status quo continuing. He didn't need anyone. He was Just Fine.

Only.

He did.

He needed someone for the Ball.

Victor's heart broke at the thought of dancing with someone else, someone who didn't carry chocolates in their pockets to give to strangers down on their luck.

His heart shied away from the thought.

But.

Victor closed his eyes, and nodded, "Phichit then. Where's he right now?"

Chris smiled, sympathetic but with pride, "Atta boy."

* * *

" _When it is in direct conflict with feelings of deep, unconditional love, our Allure will not work, Vitya. Use it wisely."_

* * *

Phichit Chulanont was objectively adorable, in the way baby seals are adorable.

Pity Victor wasn't interested.

But, Victor thought tiredly, he promised to give this a genuine shot. So, he put on a bright smile and urged his feet to move faster to catch up to the brunette who appeared to be fiddling with a camera.

"Hello." Victor said, careful to keep his voice low, so as to not startle the boy. That camera looked expensive.

Phichit whirled his head up, and looked at Victor in the eye.

And then he just….kept looking, eyes becoming progressively wider by the second.

Victor's smile took on a confused edge as the silence stretched on, surprisingly not uncomfortable despite the other's gaping.

Thoughts stalling, Victor continued bravely, voice still soft so as to not spook the Hufflepuff, "My name is -"

"Victor Nikiforov! What brings _you_ to our neck of the woods?" Phichit boisterously cut in, somehow managing to come off as charming rather than rude.

Victor resisted the urge to gape. Seemed like the boy had gotten over his initial surprise rather quickly. Now it was _Victor_ who felt like he was in danger of being spooked.

"Oh, you know. I was...looking for someone." Victor said, attempting to be coy, sweating profusely under his robes. The words felt empty on his lips, and he was more aware of his discomfort than anything else.

Phichit's eyes gleamed with an unholy light.

"Oh, really?" Phichit all but purred, "Who?"

Victor internally sighed. Seems like he had hit jackpot. Surely someone who sounded this interested in him would be willing to be his Consort?

(Nevermind that Victor was Not Interested (in Phichit at least))

Victor forced a smile and said with the charm he was famous for, "You, of course!"

It was like seeing water turn stagnant in front of your eyes. Phichit's brows slowly furrowed, the corner of his lips turned downward, and his eyes lost some of their luster.

"Me." Phichit said, flatly, eyes dead.

Victor, taken aback at the reponse, stumbled out an affirmative.

"Why." Phichit said, eyes still very much dead and mein suspicious.

(first Seung Gil and now Phichit, what was going on?)

"I just….wanted to know if you would be interested in a dinner date...type...situation." Victor said haltingly, cursing himself for not practicing in front of a mirror.

Phichit's eyes (Somehow?) became even duller, but to his credit, he said with a sympathetic tone, "I'm sorry Victor. You're a great person and all, but I'm more of a free agent. I could never have a relationship. It's just not for me."

Victor felt something in him flicker, and he said, more eagerly than before, "Then let's do casual!"

That would be perfect! He would have a Consort for the Ball, and still be able to wait for his brown eyed boy.

Phichit twitched, and he said, words delicate like china, "I don't… Victor, no offense, but you don't seem like a casual dating kind of guy. I could never do that to Yu- you! I could never do that to _you._ "

And damn, if it wasn't delivered in the kindest tone he had ever heard. Phichit Chulanont had the singular skill to make rejection seem like a gift given to the person being rejected.

"Plus!" Phichit continued, more gaily than before, "I wouldn't want you accidentally falling in love with me, haha."

(Phichit's voice was light, but his eyes were dead as ever)

Victor wanted to leave, tail between his legs, and hide in his bed until the end of forever, but he had promised.

So, Victor reached inward and coaxed his magic out, tendrils of magic wrapping around his voice easier than before, and he extended it towards Phichit.

Phichit looked at him nonplussed.

Quizzical, but unaffected.

Victor however was none of those things.

He had a few minutes max.

"Hey, are you okay? You don't look so good." Phichit said worriedly.

Victor smiled, pained, stomach toiling. He nodded offhandedly, and waving a hand at Phichit, mouth firmly shut, power-walked away.

* * *

" _Even the walls have ears, Vitya. Just because you can't see or hear someone, doesn't mean someone is not there. Constant Vigilance."_

* * *

Victor could feel _his_ presence, the quiet strength of it, without the other boy ever having to open his mouth.

Plus, it was just his fortune that the one person he was trying to come off to as suave and good boyfriend-material, saw him like this, hunched over a white ceramic pot and struggling for breath, as sweat dripped down his face.

Victor wanted to loudly sigh, but the fact that he couldn't draw a breath was a bit of a constraint in that way.

The smell of the sick further triggered Victor's Allure-sickness. Because that's what it was; after two episodes of it, both after he had tried to use his Allure? It was definitely the cost of using the Allure.

Damnation, why wasn't he told anything by his mothers?

It was like he was stumbling across the horizon blindfolded, and trusted to find the way.

Victor gagged again.

After what seemed like years, he uncurled, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He was still breathing heavily.

Well, at least he could sigh now.

He considered his still rolling stomach; on second thought, better not risk it.

Victor turned around, and saw the brown eyed boy sitting next to the painting of the pervy mermaid, talking to her softly.

And despite his bone-deep tiredness, Victor felt the sudden urge to squeal like a….something that squealed, Victor's brain was too tired for metaphors ( _or was it a simile?_ Victor distantly wondered)

Victor waited for the other boy to finish his conversation with the mermaid, content with watching the slow red flush work its way up the boy's cheek, as the mermaid whispered something Victor was _very_ interested in knowing (and replicating the results of).

But, as the boy kept ignoring Victor, _the nerve!,_ while he was standing right there artfully (hopefully?) tousled in a damp white shirt, like one of those heroes in the old books.

Honestly!

Will he have to do _everything_ in this relationship?

(Victor couldn't wait!)

Victor cleared his throat, but gagged as the vibration nearly sent him to the toilet again.

 _Sexy,_ Victor sardonically thought as he clutched for his breath again. But the artificially induced nature of it made the nausea trip easier to bear, and it wasn't long before Victor straightened, back twinging at the movement from the previous half-an-hour spent bent awkwardly, ready to try again with the mystery boy.

Only, when he straightened, the boy, apparently having had finished his scintillating conversation with the pervy mermaid, had evidently gotten rinkside tickets to Victor's showdown ( _throwdown_ , Victor internally giggled) with the toilet.

Lovely.

Victor smiled, tiredness hitting him like a freight train, and ran a hand through his hair as he stared at those brown eyes, "We have _got_ to stop meeting like this."

The boy smiled slightly, brown eyes warming up further, reminding Victor of shared chocolates and reassuring magic.

Brown eyes.

Huh.

It'll do.

For now.

Victor, seized by a sudden urge to shake that composure, smiled slightly, and with a lilting tone teased the other boy, "So, what was she telling you over there?"

The way the boy's face coloured told Victor that Brown Eyes knew exactly who Victor was talking about, and if the soft stammering was any indication, Victor was not going to get a (coherent) answer anytime soon.

But he didn't have to. Feeling firmly in power again, Victor leaned back, satisfied.

But he can't help pushing a little more, by virtue of who he was, and continued, "Or….should I ask the lady herself?"

The way Brown Eyes's face looked in a state of abject horror was too adorable for words alone. No, it deserved Symphonies and grand paintings! _Boy Stunned in Horror by Victor Nikiforov._

Victor felt, rather than heard the giggle slip out.

The boy's mouth dropped open as he heard the sound, "You - You're making _fun_ of me." He accused, soft voice going high with betrayal he probably didn't mean to reveal.

Victor felt his giggles get stronger, "No! No! I'm sorry, my bright-heart, No! I'm just - " and it was really fortunate he couldn't complete the sentence because of his mirth, because despite his prodigious skills in the fine art of bullshitting, he had no real idea how to complete that sentence.

The boy's face grew more outraged, almost comically so. He looked around in a perceived plea for other witnesses to Victor's ridiculous display, as though to seek reassurance for the vision of ludicrousness he was witnessing. But of course, Victor could have been projecting, as he almost doubled over with his giggles, the exhaustion making everything funnier.

Slowly, the boy's face evened out, a small smile touching his pink lips, until lured by Victor's infectious giggles, he too gave in, laughing softly.

 _The boy smiled with his eyes_ , Victor thought through his giggles, the corners of the other boy's eyes crinkling charmingly with the force of his smile. It was like looking at a feeding chipmunk. Victor's heart bubbled in his chest at the sight.

Too soon for Victor's tastes, their giggles subsided.

The gaze was back on Victor, like the sea itself, calm with potentially dangerous depths, and it was worried.

"Are you okay?" Brown Eyes asked.

Victor felt his smile freeze on his face, suddenly reminded of his situation and how he had ended up in the bathroom.

He smiled brightly, as if the shine of it could chase away the shadows of doubt in his heart, "Of course! Why wouldn't I be?"

Brown Eyes seemed unconvinced. He licked his lips nervously, the tip of a pink tongue poking out to wet his lips in contemplation.

"You just - You don't seem….well." he haltingly explained.

Victor maintained the smile despite his soul crying out against the lies, "Just a bit of bad meat, that's all. Nothing to be worried about."

Brown Eyes still looked skeptical, "On two separate days?"

Victor blinked innocently, "Yes. Bad luck I guess."

"Uh-huh." Brown Eyes said flatly, clearly not buying any of it, but willing the illusion to continue, despite the other boy knowing Victor was full of shit, and Brown Eyes knowing that Victor knew that Brown Eyes knew that Victor was full of shit.

It was surprisingly very considerate.

Victor could feel his knees start to shake, core slowly turning to water, the longer he stood there. The magical exhaustion was starting to catch up with him.

Victor smiled, this time more genuinely, and despite his soul pleading otherwise, said, "It was lovely seeing you again. But I'm afraid I have to be going. Maybe I can see you again?"

The other boy quirked a lip, "The next time you eat some bad meat? Sure. I'll be ready."

Feisty.

Shaking his head in amusement, Victor waved a lazy hand and gathering the last of his strength, walked away.

He just barely managed till the door of his dormitory, wherein he then proceeded to collapse on the floor, spent.

But oddly, content.

With bones aching, and eyes hurting, but soul settled, Victor decided, whoever Yuuri Katsuki was, he couldn't possibly hold a candle against Brown Eyes.

No.

Come hell or high water, Victor would have no other.

* * *

" _The most striking attribute of Veelas, is their freedom. They are like the wind itself, and cannot be tamed, chained or crushed."_

* * *

Victor dreamt of dancing.

The sun was out, and the grass gleaming with dew.

Victor frowned; this wasn't the Winter Solstice.

But nonetheless, he was dancing. And laughing, as a hand spun him round and round and round, his long hair flying around him, turning his vision into silver and gold.

He was happy, his chest felt like pebbles bouncing on the Great Lake, airy and light.

But to his dismay, the vision was shaking. The silver and gold slipping away as the wisps of consciousness slipped into his head, the pebble-light feelings in his chest slipping away to give way to a heavy drowsiness.

Victor frowned. He wanted the feeling back. He grunted, as pain in his joints made itself known.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up, Victo, _comeoncomeoncomeon_ , it's an emergency, you idiot!" A voice whispered with fevered urgency.

Victor frowned, that didn't sound good. He struggled to get up, ignoring the bone deep pain, and opened his sleepy eyes to a white-faced Yuri, who was bent over Victor, clutching a wand in his hand tightly.

Victor got up.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Victor said, a sudden rage descending over his tired body at the hints of fear in Yuri's green eyes.

The haze of the dream was fading quickly, the longer he looked at the dishevelled Yuri.

Victor was going to seriously damage someone.

"Am I - No. You idiot, I'm not okay. And you won't be either, if you stay here any longer. They are coming." Yuri shot back, the underbelly of his voice quivering. The last time Victor had heard that tone was in the aftermath of the first time he had met Yuri, back when he had first come across Yuri dueling with five second-year Ravenclaws, back in Yuri's first year. He could never forget those green eyes, looking up at Victor defiantly, and with a voice that had quivered much the same way, said _I don't need some Slytherin coming in and rescuing me. Get fucked, Asshole._

Victor had been sardonically amused at the tiny ball of fluff, until he had seen the tinier trembling bundles of kittens behind the first year.

(Turns out animal experimentation wasn't just a muggle thing)

And Victor who had been taught to respect Mother Nature from the day he he had first seen a fairy ring….

Suffice it to say those Ravenclaws never so much as looked at another animal with ill-intent again.

And thus, Yuri's famed Hufflepuff loyalty had been won.

Victor felt familiar rage steal across his head, and with a force born of practice he pushed it away from appearing on his face, and silkily said, "What. Happened. Yura."

Yuri's eyes widened at the tone, and he walked away, searching the room, and opening Victor's closet.

After removing Victor's _Hooch 2017_ broom and some clothes, he strode up to Victor and threw the clothing at him.

"Get ready. They _know_."

* * *

" _Make sure no one knows about your Heritage, Vitya. Humans are not kind to those they cannot control. And after Voldemort's war… let's just say, it's not a safe world for us anymore, my Darling"_

* * *

They ran.

Victor clutching Yuri's waist as Yuri flew them to the Great Lake, feeling adrenaline pump through his body, temporarily making the now-familiar aches disappear. He could feel fear coursing through him; not for himself, but for Yuri, whose tension Victor could taste in the air itself. In his selfishness, he had managed to drag people he cared about into this and put them in danger as well.

Oh Goddess, _what had he done_?

If anything happened to Yuri or Chris or Mila….

Victor could feel his eyes sharpen, centuries-old rage rise in his chest, primal and raw.

He would burn the world down.

Victor felt his feet touch the grass, as they both got off, Yuri almost shaking with tension, but wand still held steady in his hand. Ready to fight - _for Victor -_ with neither thought of consequence nor self-preservation.

 _Oh, Yura_.

 _You always have been ready to fight the whole world for a cause. I'm sorry for giving you one._

 _I'll never forgive myself for this._

Thoughts like blades swiped through Victor's brain, razor sharp and quicksilver.

In the distance he could see people.

They were coming.

* * *

" _We're not beautiful ornaments to be placed on shelves, admired and then forgotten. We're warriors, first and foremost. Don't forget that. We're the wind itself. And wind is not always a gentle mistress."_

* * *

Yuri saw them too, if the way he put himself between them and Victor was any indication, wand hand extended.

Yuri turned his head to meet Victor's eyes. He looked grim, but resolute; Victor thought of the echoes in the eyes of the veterans of the Second War, and shivered.

"Go. I'll keep them away. I'm keep them all away. Go!"

Reluctant, angry and loathing at the knowledge that for all his magic he couldn't keep the people he loved safe in his current condition, Victor said firmly, "I'll leave the broom, Yura. No, Listen. I can't fly it in my current state, Please be safe. I'll be fine. Just... get away as soon as you can. Please."

Yuri pursed his lips, nodded, and with a notion of clear dismissal, turned away from Victor.

Victor, heart breaking and full of self-hatred, went.

Placing an obscuring charm on himself, he snuck past the crowd, and went to the only place he had felt safe in anymore.

Only on entering the bathroom, he found a giggling Myrtle, who turned her translucent eyes, at the door opening.

"Surprised you survived long enough. I thought the crowds would have eaten you up by now." She snickered.

And with that Victor had two realizations, one: ghosts could see through charms, and two: Myrtle was why Yuri was in danger. _She_ was the one who had told everyone about him being a Veela.

Filled with molten rage, Victor said softly, "Why."

Myrtle flew suddenly until her translucent face, forever preserved in her younger form, was up against Victor's, and with a voice that simmered with barely leashed bitterness she spoke, "Look at you, coming here. Hoping to see _him_ , huh? Will snakes like you never stop trying to take things from me?"

Victor gritted his teeth, questions still unanswered, "Why are you doing this?"

Myrtle's eyes frosted, "Always playing the victim, aren't you, Victor Nikiforov? _Beautiful_ Victor, _Perfect_ Victor, _Kind_ Victor. Always Victor, Victor, Victor!"

Victor was seized with a sudden whirlpool of hopeless dizziness. Obviously he had done _something_ to anger her. But for the life of him, he couldn't remember what. But one thing was clear, _Victor_ was why Yuri was in danger.

Victor hunched his shoulders, and with eyes cast downward, said "I don't know what you mean Myrtle. I'm sorry for whatever I did to hurt you, Myrtle. I really am."

The defeated posture seemed to amuse and delight her more than anything if the volume she laughed was any indication.

"Nothing?! You come in and use your filthy Veela tricks to make Yuuri fall in love with you, and you say you did nothing?! Typical Veela. But you don't fool me! I have seen temptresses like you before, luring good men away from the people they actually love. I could smell you, you know, the first time you came in. Even the dead know of the Veela."

 _Bingo._

But despite the success, couldn't help but be more confused than before. Yuuri Katsuki? How did he come into this story?

Victor carefully said, "I don't know any Yuuri Katsuki, Myrtle. You have me confused with someone else."

Myrtle swung back like Victor had threatened to punch her, and hissed, "How dare you say his name in front of me?! First you take him away from me, and now you are here to gloat?!"

Internally, Victor was screaming. _Just who was this cursed Yuuri Katsuki who had made Victor's life a living hell? What was so great about Yuuri Katsuki anyway?_

But before Victor could speak, he heard footsteps like thunder outside the bathroom.

Victor could only watch as Myrtle's smiled, a chilling grotesque thing consisting almost entirely of bared teeth.

"HE'S HERE. HE'S HERE. VICTOR NIKIFOROV, THE VEELA, IS IN HERE!"

The footsteps got louder.

Victor looked down at himself, only to see that his charm had faded.

Damnation, his magic was too weak because of the magical exhaustion.

Victor backed away, until he was near the window. He looked down, at the five storey height, and prepared himself, non-verbally casting a cushioning charm, and prayed to Mother.

But before he could leap, the door swung open, to reveal a group of five.

Victor could feel his vision tunneling, Myrtle's laughter blurring in his ears, and the world swirling like ice-cream.

The leader of the group, a large girl with a vicious smile and a Gryffindor tie, stode forward, loudly saying, "So. This is where the Great Victor Nikiforov went to hide. Not so mighty now, are you? What happened? Did those friends you bought to fight for you go away? Now that they know the truth, Nikiforov?"

Victor, vision still tenuous, smirked lazily, "Don't bore me with your problems. I'm - in case you haven't noticed - very busy."

The sour look on the girl's face which had appeared at Victor's dismissal, suddenly disappeared, as quickly as it came, and she purred, "Oh. I _know._ Figures how a filthy Slytherin like you got to where you are. Probably slept your way up to the top, huh, Nikiforov. Slytherins never change. But now we know the truth, Veela Slut. We know. Now you can't hide."

Victor smiled harder, and silkily said, fear pumping through his heart, "Aw, don't tell me you spent your days thinking about me of all old people, Miss….uh, sorry, I don't think I know you name."

The girl's face hardened, and she strutted to the window, and placing her hands on either sides of Victor's face, in an ugly facsimile of a loving whisper, said, "Do you know, little Veela, that it is said that the person who cuts off a part of a Veela's hair gains control of the Veela? It's a high better than any serving of Felix Felicis. Do you reckon I should see if that particular myth is true?"

And then she touched Victor's hair.

Victor felt his heart still.

No.

It couldn't be.

His mothers would have told him.

Right?

Body frozen with panic, Victor spoke, "Well, I reckon it's the only way you Gryffindors can get anyone."

The face, _so close_ _to Victor's_ , hardened, and the hand that had been caressing Victor's hair, _pulled,_ yanking Victor down by his hair like an animal on a leash _._

Victor bit back a pained whimper as his head erupted with pinpricks of pain.

He could hear laughter through the haze of pain.

And through his fear, he felt anger. He was alone in a den of lions, and defenceless with magical exhaustion.

But he was Victor Fucking Nikiforov.

Fuck it, do it and worry about the consequences later.

Victor looked up slowly, and exhaled, pulling tendrils of tired, but eager magic forth.

The girl looked like someone had smacked her in the face with a brass plate.

It would only work for a second.

But, Victor thought as he threw himself back-first through the window to Myrtle's outraged screams, a second was all he had ever needed.

* * *

" _Remember darling, you don't have to do everything alone…."_

* * *

When he came to, he was lying on the grass, and he could feel the drumming of incoming footsteps through the earth.

He didn't have much time.

He struggled to get up, hands pushing against the Earth, as he urged his body to just work with him. After stumbling back on his arse a few time, he finally succeeded in getting up, and prepared himself and sent an apology to his magic.

He could hear rather than see the students.

They could be friend, they could be foe. It didn't matter, everyone Victor saw had to be treated as a foe. If Victor was to survive.

He had maybe seconds left.

Victor exhaled, and he was surrounded. He could see out of his peripheral vision, hands reaching towards his hair, wands being extended.

Victor prepared himself for the intrusion. He raised his arms towards the sky, and prepared himself to call forth his magic.

But not a single person on the ground nor casted spell touched him.

Victor felt rough hands grip his, in the air. And he felt a swoop in his stomach as he was without warning, _lifted_ up to a broom. The people on the ground gasped at the sudden surprise, unable to do much more than stare blankly as their victim was hoisted up to safety, in a place they couldn't reach.

Victor for his part, felt strong arms grip his waist, as he was cradled close to a firm chest.

He was seated in someone's arms on a broom, fifty feet up.

Victor's thoughts were now nothing but question marks.

He struggled, unsure of the other rider's motives, only to feel heat spread through his head, as the other rider put their head up to Victor's and said, with a voice that had Victor's heart rate speeding up, but for different reasons, "I'm not going to hurt you, Victor. I'll keep you safe. I swear it. "

And it was not the oath, but the way the other boy's hands protectively tightened on Victor's waist that made him relax, and settle into the broom and the chest.

With muscles alight with energy, Victor closed his eyes in relief. He was safe.

Brown Eyes had promised him after all.


	4. Chapter 4

"Are you….Is this okay?"

Victor blinked up slowly, Brown Eyes (Geez, he really needed a name at this point, it was getting ridiculous) was staring not at him but into the nearby trees.

Victor looked around, at the clearing in the Forbidden Forest, at the way nature itself seemed to be holding her breath in the clearing.

He looked back up, Brown Eyes' clothes seemed to be ruffled and stained, like he had been in a hurry, and had then fought a troupe of trolls after that. The lithe arms were taut with coiled tension, muscles like ropes, visible because of the rolled up sleeves in the white shirt Brown Eyes was wearing.

Victor felt like flobberworms were crawling in his hair and arms.

He shivered.

Brown Eyes' eyes caught the movement, eyes sharp and suddenly focused on Victor.

It didn't help with the shivering. But now it was for a different reason.

Victor looked away, unable to hold his gaze, and felt like hands were still raking through his long hair, climbing down into his waist and _pulling_.

The clearing seemed suspended in a bubble of time, it seemed liminal, surreal.

Victor felt rather than saw Brown Eyes crouch down, and reach out. Victor - before he could help it - flinched back, falling on his behind in his hurry to get away. His animal brain was suddenly aware of Victor's powerlessness. The hand holding his wand felt weak, like it was made up of water, Victor tried nonetheless to grip it tighter.

Suddenly, the heat from the other person was nowhere to be felt, as Brown Eyes too threw himself back, away from Victor, with viciousness, arms, palms open, raised up to his head, eyes wide with blown out pupils.

Victor blinked in surprise at the sprawled out boy who had somehow, in the microsecond it had taken for Victor to flinch, managed to get across the clearing, and felt his heart beat a little steadier.

"I'm not..I won't... _I won't."_

Victor could hear his own gasps through the thudding in his head, it was like his head was competing with his heart. His hands were clammy.

"If - If...The broom is there. I won't follow."

Victor, trying to rein in the thunder in his ears, felt fevered. If he flew now… it would be like _Avada Kedavra_ -ing himself.

Victor clutched his head, trying to center the ants under his skin away.

For the first time in his life, he was without friends, and magic. Before there was always a helping hand; a smile and wink assured that, he was cherished, he was favoured.

Here, he had nothing but the worms underneath his skin to keep him company.

Victor breathed, mouth open, trying to draw in as much air as possible. He was _without._

Usually, the noise from the outside could quieten the internal, here he had nothing but his own thoughts. And Victor was terrified.

Victor could hear rustling, as someone shifted over the fallen fall leaves.

Oh Mother, he wasn't alone was he? He was with a Lion with ambiguous loyalties. He had seen what Lions with pretty and empty words were capable of, with his own eyes. He had seen the look in his mothers' eyes as they got their monthly visits from the Ministry workers responsible for the Post-War Veelas. Victor was more than aware of sharks in the water waiting for the -

Victor could smell blood.

Victor's head snapped up.

Brown Eyes was bleeding. Even from across the clearing, Victor could see the deep ruby beads of blood from the gash in his arm.

"What are you -" Victor started saying, hoarse voice cracking. Only to be interrupted with a voice that sounded like lightning.

"In the name of the blood and magic that runs through my veins, by my own free will and mind, I promise you this: I will protect you, Victor Nikiforov. Never will any, no friends, or foe, No knowledge or deceit stand in my way. For however long you need me, I am yours. I will protect you and never intentionally harm you. I vow you the first cut of my meat, the first sip of my wine, I will be your shield, and your sword. I shall not seek to change you in any way. I shall respect you, your beliefs, your people, and your ways as I respect myself. May my magic strike me where I stand should I turn my back on my oath."

Victor gaped as those brown eyes _burned._ They seared into Victor's soul as the other boy's arm had rivulets of blood dripping into the ground. Victor trailed the blood as it rolled down the pale hand, and hit the soil. The minute the blood touched the earth, Victor could feel the resonance of the blood oath in his soul. Those words weren't empty.

The earth bloomed before Victor's eyes. Hydrangeas popping up from the magic the boy had initiated with, with his oath.

Victor, surprised beyond anything he had ever experienced before, felt his heart give as he softly said, feeling _fond_ of all inappropriate emotions, "It's almost like a marriage proposal."

The determined face slackened, and slowly turned red, until the previously steely eyed boy was reduced to resembling a tomato before Victor's eyes. As the boy started stumbling out words that meant nothing (unlike his words from before that had rung from surety), Victor couldn't help but think.

 _Oh, my bright-heart, what have you done?_

* * *

" _Sometimes, my darling, it's not about the war, but what stays standing afterwards"_

* * *

Victor hummed as he could feel familiar tendrils of magic extend from his wand, as he _Accio_ -ed pieces of wood for the fire. Fall nights could get cold.

"How's your magic feeling?"

Victor looked at Brown Eyes who was securing the clearing with wards. He wasn't looking at Victor, tone forcibly casual.

Anyone else and Victor would have send back a biting remark with a smile on his face, but with the smell of blood still fresh, and the Hydrangeas blooming next to him, waving with the wind…..

In a conciliatory tone, Victor said, "Better. The forest helps."

Brown Eyes' shoulders unclenched, and his movement became more fluid, as the blue barriers faded into invisibility, "I'm glad."

And so he was.

Victor ducked his head, and focused harder.

They worked in silence, until the clearing practically thrummed with the combined force of their magic. Victor bit back a sigh as the air gentled, and he could taste their magic. Most people's magic felt intrusive, like it was poking into his head, taking, asking, expecting _._

Only his mothers' magic felt familiar on his skin, comforting and warm.

But this. To say Brown Eyes' magic was comforting was like saying the sun was warm. It felt like his bones were being soaked in warmth. Like he was deficient, and this was all he needed to get better. And in a clearing with Brown Eyes' magic surrounding him, he felt like he was drinking it from an overflowing hose.

Victor felt drunk on magic.

It felt like silent, barely unleashed power. Most of all, it felt _safe._ The magic itself was telling him, _never never hurt you, keep you safe, forever forever forever._

It was addictive.

Liquid gold.

Victor shivered.

"Cold?"

Victor's eyes flew open as a honey-rich voice spoke low and deep near him, but carefully away at the same time.

Brown Eyes was looking at him, from a distance, head cocked. Victor could feel his neck heat, as he blinked back into reality. How embarrassing, honestly. Who reacted like that to a little magic? Victor was _not_ going to tell Brown Eyes that he was perving on his magic, of all things. Geez, Victor, get a hold on yourself.

Victor licked his lips distractedly, and shook his head slightly. His throat felt dry.

Brown Eyes nodded, eyes ever watchful, and returned to watching the forest. A part of Victor was glad, glad he didn't have to act like everything was fine, that he wasn't expected to _perform,_ but another, more petty, part of him was annoyed, _look at me damnit._

Brown Eyes was sitting, long legs splayed out in front of him, one leg bent up, right arm resting on it, wand clutched in it.

Victor was desperate for conversation, anything to silence his inner thoughts, but was at a loss as to what to talk about. _Nice flying, rescue hapless Veelas often? Ha. ha._

 _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

 _Where were Chris and Mila when you needed them?_

Victor's thoughts soured further as he realized where they were. Fighting for him. Because of him. All because he was a Veela. Victor clenched his eyes shut, at the thoughts flying through his head.

"Why did they react like that?"

Eyes still shut, Victor asked exhaustedly, "Like what?"

"Like you did something wrong, like you're some _thing_ to be _hunted."_ At that, Brown Eyes' voice rose up in sustained fury.

Victor laughed hollowly, "Well, darling, don't you know? I _am_."

Brown Eyes hissed, losing his casual posture, as he leaned back, the previous tension coming back to his frame. "How can you say that so casually?! You're _not."_

Victor looked at him sharply.

"I know. But do you have _any_ idea what it was like after the Second War? How Veelas everywhere were trafficked and _sold to the highest bidder_ like chattel? How just because some Veelas sided with Voldemort, the Ministry put us all on the watch list and _sold us away? Just because we were all alone, with no one on our side?_ " Victor spat out.

Brown eyes widened and flinched back as if struck. But Victor, with the suppressed fury of seventeen years and the worry about his friends, cared for naught.

"While you were secure in your obliviousness, _my_ people, my mothers, who had nothing to do with the War, were "assigned" Ministry officers, who were little more than slave owners. It lasted for five years before Hermione Granger finally succeeded in getting rid of that rule. But people have long memories. Once an object, forever an object. To be owned and bought and _used_."

Victor could taste salt.

He looked at Brown Eyes.

He was crying.

Victor was suddenly horrified.

Brown Eyes wiped his eyes with his bare hands, face flushed.

"I'm s-sorry. I don't mean to cry. I'm sorry."

Victor was dumbstruck. At every turn, every time Victor tried his best to slam him out, he managed to get past his defenses and under his skin. Victor had accused him of not caring enough, and here he was shedding tears _for_ Victor.

"I shouldn't - You're still….affected from the blood oath. I shouldn't have pushed you so much. Forgive me." Victor said haltingly.

Brown Eyes froze. And then he said, voice fierce and harsh, "You think _this_ is because of the oath? That I am only crying for you because magic is making me? Did you not stop to even consider the possibility that people care about you? That they did, before knowing you were a Veela, and they will after this as well?"

Victor stilled. He thought back to Chris making lists, and Mila researching Veela lore, and Yura fighting. He felt his eyes burn.

"I - "

"Honestly Victor, look around you. You need to have more faith in the people who care about you. We will not to be chased away that easily."

Victor looked up, tears falling unstopped from his eyes, that was the first time the other boy had called him his name since finding out Victor was a Veela.

He was smiling, softly through his own tears.

Victor smiled back, feeling hopeful for the first time that day.

"And anyway," the other boy continued, voice shyer and still strong despite it, "We're linked now, you and I, aren't we? For however long you chose, you'll never be alone, not while I'm still breathing."

Victor could feel his breath steal away.

Forever, then.

Victor will take forever to start with.

Victor gasped, trying to hold in the torrent of tears threatening to overtake him.

"V-Victor!"

Victor did the only thing he could think of, he ran and enveloped the smaller boy in his arms, lifting him off of his feet, in Victor's exuberance, shoulders muffling his words.

"Biiktoru!"

Victor buried his face in the shorter boy's neck and let himself _stay._

* * *

" _A Veela is defined by their Herd. Find yours, Vitya, and you'll find yourself."_

* * *

"Honestly, what were you thinking? And people call _me_ extra!" Victor mumbled as he steadied Brown Eyes' right arm and wrapped a piece of cloth, taken from his robes and _scourified_ clean, around it.

"You don't have to trouble yourself, I can do it myself!" The other boy stumbled over his words in his hurry to rush out the sentiment.

Victor carried on his scolding as if not hearing the other.

"You could get an infection from this, and then where would we be!" Victor shook his head, and raised his head to look at the other boy, to properly impose the gravity of the situation upon him, only to find the other boy looking at him with an indiscernible look in his eyes. Victor felt his neck get hot, as he held the other's gaze.

 _Why was he feeling so odd?_

 _Was it the maturity?_

They stared at each other, Victor clutching the other's arm in his hands, for what seemed like eons. Until a nearby bush rustled.

Suddenly it was like lightning had struck the other boy, he firmly pulled his arm out of Victor's grip, and pushed Victor (to his outrage) behind him, and swiftly aimed his wand at the bushes.

Victor held his breath, and looked at the broom lying near him, they could make it, if they ran now.

Victor laid his hand on Brown Eyes' shoulder, and squeezed it, wordlessly gesturing towards the broom. The other's eyes were steel. He shook his head, and aimed his wand towards the bushes.

Damn Gryffindors.

Victor huffed silently, and got ready for battle.

The bushes rumbled, the opponent was getting closer.

Brown Eyes' posture were prepared for battle, offhandedly Victor admired the ready stance, someone had gone to a lot of trouble to teach Brown Eyes The Way.

The bushes rumbled louder.

Victor tightened his grip on his wand.

* * *

" _Constant Vigilance, Vitya. You never know who'sin the walls."_

* * *

"Of all the darn things, it had to be a rabbit!" Victor exclaimed.

Brown Eyes' lips twitched, "To be fair, _we_ are intruding on the rabbit's territory. By all accounts, the rabbit is well within their rights to demand an explanation."

Victor giggled.

"So, you're a vegetarian, huh?"

Victor blinked at the non-sequitur. He cocked his head, "Yes…?"

The other boy coloured, and stammered, "Not that I - I figured since you're a Veela and nature-y, there's a possibility you're a vegetarian!"

Victor's lips twitched at the other's panic. Honestly, who was this guy? One moment he was a suave rescuer created to, with singular precision, appeal to every one of Victor's preferences, and the other, he was a shy debutante in front of a rake.

Victor couldn't decide which version he liked better.

"Anyway," Brown Eyes seemed to get a hold of himself, as he continued, voice firmer than before, and geez what an emotional whiplash this guy was giving Victor, "I was wondering, if you're hungry. I can make us something vegetarian, if you like."

Victor was confused, "How? Food is one of the five exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, you can't create it out of thin air!"

Those brown eyes twinkled playfully as he started unbuttoning his shirt. Victor started considering the health of his heart at the young age of seventeen. Oh Sweet, Merciful, Cruel Goddess.

He was wearing a thin, white undershirt.

Victor didn't know if he was relieved or disappointed.

Brown Eyes smirked as he said, "I didn't say I would be _creating_ food. Merely…..re-tranfiguring it."

With a wink Victor would call dowright saucy, Brown Eyes flicked his wrist, and with a flourish laid his shirt on the ground, front side up.

Victor looked at him, bathed in moonlight, with the shadows from the nearby flame dancing across his face, re-making him anew, and felt his heart swell.

Brown Eyes twirled his wand, and with a whisper that trailed down the length of Victor's spine, created food out of, what appeared tobe, thin air.

* * *

" _Magic, at its core, is about surprises and wonder….._ "

* * *

Victor leaned on a nearby tree with abrupt force, full from his recent feast, and said weakly, "So, do you always have food transfigured into buttons squirreled away on your shirt?"

Brown Eyes' reddened and said, voice tinged with pride, "Yeah. I like to have options. Plus sometimes I get hungry at the same time I'm feeling lazy, so buttoned food! It comes handy. But you should have seen Phichit's face the first time I started taking off my shirt when he said he was hungry."

Victor shook hishead, and laughed and laughed and laughed.

* * *

"... _Get yourself someone who makes you feel magic, Vitya"_


	5. Chapter 5

He was pacing.

Victor scrunched his face as he felt, rather than heard, the nearby movement. To Brown Eyes's credit he was trying to be quiet. But Victor's senses were heightened, being in nature like this.

Victor opened one eye to see Brown Eyes staring distrustingly at the forest from his side of the clearing.

"The wards will keep the animals away. You should know, you created them." Victor said softly, trying not to shatter the mood created by the moonlight and the fire.

Brown Eyes looked over, and smiled slightly, a wisp of a thing, barely-there but filling Victor with warmth. He didn't seem surprised. He had known Victor was awake.

"I know," Brown Eyes said just as softly, but on him the soft voice sounded _more._ Like it was a part of his personality. Anyone who heard it might have mistaken him for being easy to manipulate, even weak. But only if they were fools enough to overlook the steely eyes and powerful posture, that is.

Victor was no fool.

In the firelight, Brown Eyes looked like a creature of the forest himself. A beautiful wood nymph, delicately boned but with roots that spread far and deep.

Victor could feel his breath catch. So caught up was he in the view, that he almost missed the words that slipped from Brown Eyes's mouth before the boy in question ducked his head, red-faced.

But he caught them.

 _"I can't risk it. Not with you here."_

Victor sat up slowly, willing the hotness in his neck to dissipate, as he stared incredulously across the fire at the beautiful boy willing to lose sleep because of _him_.

A beat.

Victor came to a decision. He swept his legs, and stood up smoothly, and said, walking over to Brown Eyes, watching the tension drain for every step that Victor took towards him, "Alright! Then I suppose I have no course available _but_ to lull you to sleep with a bedtime story. What would you like to hear from me?"

Those brown eyes _gleamed,_ as he breathed, "Whatever you would like to give."

That sounded an awful lot like " _Everything."_

Later when Victor thought about that first night, in the Forbidden Forest, with a beautiful stranger who was fast becoming dearer and dearer, he thought of softly spoken words, and a sense of intimacy from which he never recovered.

He thought of long shadows, of eyelashes, on rounded cheeks as their bearer quietly admitted to feeling "slight prickling in my magic" the further away he got from Victor.

He thought of pinkened faces as he scooted closer and closer and closer….

He thought of slow, barely-there smiles that warmed his weary bones, he thought of shared breath, huffed laughter and echoes of touch from hesitant fingers.

He thought of an "Oh." wrangled out of a lovely, lovely throat, after Victor explained Consorts and Balls, and wishing desperately that he could read minds, _just this once._

Most of all he remembered feeling like liquid gold.

* * *

 _"Vitya, mind your teasing, or one day you will get more than you expected."_

* * *

The next day, Victor woke up to a flurry of bird calls, as nature rose with him.

He looked around the clearing, from the burnt firewood with echoes of flames colouring it, to the place where Brown Eyes was resting, curled up and clutching his wand, half looking like an Auror ready for battle, and half like a child with their favourite teddy bear.

It was a surprisingly good look for him, _but then_ , Victor amended in his head, _everything seemed to be a Good Look for him_. Victor had a feeling if Brown Eyes had shown up wearing socks with those awful rubber muggle shoes, Victor would be charmed instead of horrified like he would have been if anyone else committed the same transgression.

But then, Brown Eyes seemed to be quickly becoming an exception to all of Victor's rules, for himself and what he expected from society.

"Hungry?"

Victor blinked, as a soft voice interrupted his musings, so lost was he in them that he missed those brown eyes opening.

Victor smiled brightly, "Why? Am I going to bear witness to some more button magic?"

His face flushed becomingly, red climbing up those cheekbones that seemed to be able to cut glass, in a way Victor was decidedly **not** storing mental photos of in his head to review later.

"Maybe. If you ask nicely." Brown Eyes said with a surprising amount of dignity, considering he was matching the color of the evening sky.

Victor laughed delightedly, charmed. Brown Eyes, seeming to lose his momentary burst of confidence, ducked his head into his arms, but not before Victor caught sight of a small smile gracing his lips.

Victor leaned forward, and cocking his head, purring, " _Oh, would you please?_ "

The now curled up bundle of the individual formerly known as Brown Eyes (to Victor at least), let out a strangled sound.

Victor mentally patted himself on the back, good to know he still had It.

* * *

 _"Vitya, your maturity is when you will become one with nature herself."_

* * *

It all started with an argument.

" _And just who do you think you are?! Big, strong man telling me what to do?!_ " A voice shrieked behind Victor.

Victor jumped, drawing a surprised look from Brown Eyes, who was checking the wards.

"What's wrong?" Brown Eyes asked, drawing up and suddenly taking more space than he previously had.

Victor attempted a weak smile,"Nothing, thought I heard something."

Those eyes sharpened, "From where?"

Victor pointed to the direction the loud shriek had come from. Brown Eyes strode to Victor, and pushed the broom in his surprised hands.

"I'm going to go check it out, if you feel like _anything_ is wrong, don't wait for me. Fly away."

Victor blinked, but before he could respond, Brown Eyes lightly but decisively went in the direction where Victor had pointed.

Victor sighed. Still clutching the broom, he wondered wryly if in addition to being homeless and weak with exhaustion, maturity had also caused him to start hearing things.

" _No, you shrew! I am simply trying to keep you safe! Urgh, if you're not going to listen to me, I'm outta here. Don't wait up._ " A deeper voice said sharply.

Victor jumped as the bushes behind him rustled. He stumbled back, trying to ascertain if his magical core felt ready enough to deal with a potential enemy. The broom in his hand felt unwieldy, and the thought of running away and leaving Brown Eyes felt disgraceful.

The bushes shook as Victor tried to decide on his next course of action. Surely the wards would keep any human with ill-intent away. Victor remembered the liquid gold feeling of safety that the magic had invoked and felt his resolve harden; he was going to stay. He just had to trust in Brown Eyes's magic.

The bushes shook harder as someone pushed their way through it, Victor braced himself, the now-familiar adrenaline coursing through his body.

The bushes parted.

A rabbit hopped out.

Victor felt like crying with aggravation; he huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was the second time now! If he didn't value his mothers' teachings so much, he would seriously be considering becoming a non-vegetarian right about now.

He looked balefully at the brown rabbit now hopping around determinedly in the clearing. The rabbit turned to look at him.

They stared at each other for a beat.

"And just what are you looking at, punk?! Need me to come over there and give you the good ole one-two?"

"Um." Victor said.

The rabbit hopped closer, clearly aggravated, _and why was Victor able to identity that?,_ and continued gruffly, "Honestly, what makes you think you can come over to _my territory_ and look at _me_ funny?! You are really starting to _piss me off_!"

Victor stumbled back, hands flying up, palms towards rabbit, eager to draw the rabbit's ire away from himself. Victor, not quite sure what was happening anymore, decided to run with it and focus on the thing with the most priority: appeasing the raging animal.

"I am sorry!" Victor cried out, still walking backwards, away from the wrathful woodland creature, "I won't look at you anymore. Starting from… now!" At that, Victor turned his head away to look at the tree.

The thumps of the incoming rabbit stopped, but Victor still did not look, afraid he might be accused of looking at the _talking rabbit_ funnily again. But talking rabbit or not, Victor - who had just recently gotten his fair share of people looking at him funnily - wouldn't subject anyone to the same treatment, like they were a spectacle first and a living being second. It wasn't the _rabbit's_ fault they could talk!

"You - ah, shoot - You can understand me?" The rabbit said (presumably, or at least Victor hoped. It was better to hear a talking rabbit than to _imagine_ hearing a talking rabbit).

Still looking away, Victor nodded meekly.

"Ah, you can look at me _now,_ numbskull. I am talking to you now! It's rude to not be looking someone in the eye when they are talking!"

Which, you know, fair.

Victor turned his head slowly, praying Brown Eyes wouldn't return to see him being held hostage by a fluffy woodland creature.

"Hello." Victor said.

The rabbit eyeballed him suspiciously, _and again, why was Victor able to sense that?,_ and said, "How can you understand what I'm saying?"

Victor shrugged helplessly, and with a note of hysteria, said, "I am not sure. One moment, it was all quiet and the next I could hear a woman speaking and then you came in, and I could understand you."

The rabbit huffed, and said almost to himself, "Figures that shrew's voice would reach you here as well!"

"Ah." Victor said, not sure if he should engage, half curious, his natural meddling senses peeking their head out, warring with his oft-ignored self-preservation skills that sensed that this bunny would _not_ stand for much nonsense.

The rabbit's gaze returned to him, intelligent and sharp, "Well then, human! Explain! What magic have you foolishly unleashed. This was bound to happen, if the way you humans just carelessly wave that piece of wood around is any indication."

Victor felt affronted, but resisted voicing his thoughts, instead saying with an even tone, "Has this ever happened before?"

The rabbit hummed, and hopped closer, and said, voice considering, "No. I can't say this has ever happened to me or my ilk. But, it is said that children of Mother Nature are attuned to our voices."

Victor gasped, and said eagerly, "I'm a Veela. Do you think that is why I can hear you?"

The rabbit snorted, "Well kid, that certainly doesn't help anything! A Veela! Why didn't you just say so! And here I was thinking you were one of those pesky humans!"

Victor said, voice sharper than before, "I _am_ human."

"Not to Nature, you aren't, little Veela. You are one of _us_."

A tiny, squirming thing in Victor chest shook at that response, and he struggled to not let his voice betray him, he opened his mouth, only to shut it when he felt, rather than heard, someone _human_ approach the clearing.

"Victor, I couldn't find anyone. Are you alright?"

Victor relaxed, it was just Brown Eyes. He turned towards the direction the voice had come from, and answered, "I'm fine."

"Who the hell is that guy? Is he one of us too?" A grumpy voice piped up.

Victor - who had momentarily forgotten the whole _talking to an animal_ situation - jumped. Brown Eyes had already seen him at his ugliest and weakest. How much more could Victor let his strangeness, his _otherness,_ show before even his patience was tested?

He didn't want this to be the end.

 _Not this way._

Victor came to a decision. He would just hide it all, chances were he was probably just hallucinating the whole thing anyway. Maybe Brown Eyes wouldn't even be able to see the rabbit.

Brown Eyes came into the clearing as Victor held his breath and prayed to the Goddess for assistance. He smiled brightly, trying to hide how shaken he really was. Those brilliant eyes caught his and swept over his face. Victor maintained his smile, feeling the sweat drip down the back of his neck.

"Hey, you okay?" Brown Eyes frowned, and stepped forward, reaching a hand towards Victor. Upon reaching Victor, Brown Eyes put his right hand to Victor's clammy forehead and put the other on his own.

Victor was bewildered, but let it happen, curious despite the situation. It seemed like recently he had a tendency to get into the most bizarre situations, especially when this boy was concerned.

"No fever, but you do feel a bit sweaty. Maybe you should rest." Brown Eyes said authoritatively. Victor resisted the urge to cringe at the diagnosis. He didn't exactly strive to have someone comment on his sweat. Victor usually tried to project himself as being above earthly concerns, and having someone he was interested in say that… Well, let's just say the red on his face was not (As Brown Eyes would attest) from a fever.

"I… alright. Thank you, I might go do that." Victor said, defeated.

Brown Eyes gave him a encouraging smile and said, "While you do that, I'm gonna go check the perimeter, and make sure I haven't missed anything. Is - Is that alright with you?"

At those words, Victor felt panic clog up his throat. He didn't want to be alone, especially not in a strange, unfamiliar forest, with his magic weak.

 _He didn't want him to leave._

Victor's fingernails bit the inside of his palms, trying to ground himself. He had to be stronger than this. He couldn't spend the rest of his life afraid of being by himself.

He smiled.

"Of course, I understand. I will be here when you get back." Victor said smoothly.

Brown Eyes looked at him for a second, but Victor kept smiling, willing him to not ask any further questions.

"Actually, if you don't mind. I am feeling some… after-effects of the blood oath from yesterday. It hurts to be away from you right now. Would you mind if I stayed here and checked the perimeter tomorrow?" Brown Eyes said, eyes not giving anything away.

Victor didn't know what the expression on his face was, but it seemed answer enough for the other boy to smile and settle down in the clearing.

Victor told himself he wasn't grateful or relieved.

"Oh!"

Victor turned to look at Brown Eyes, who was looking at Victor's foot interestedly.

"Is that a rabbit?" He said, voice bright and eager.

Victor felt a sudden sinking in his gut.

Not a hallucination then.

Victor laughed lightly, "Yeah, he came in through the bushes, I think there is a burrow there."

Victor felt a sharp pinch in his foot. He looked down to see the grumpy rabbit biting at his shoes with ferocity. His eyes widened.

"I think he likes you!" Brown Eyes said happily, practically cooing.

Victor resisted the urge to bash his head in a tree.

Instead pushing the rabbit off of him, he settled down for a nap, hoping the world would make more sense once he got up.

* * *

 _"Darling, you must be careful, your maturity will unearth parts of yourself that you didn't even know existed._ "

* * *

That night they sat around the rekindled fire, both exhausted. Victor, despite his nap, could feel every bone in his body, as they throbbed and generally made their presence known. He bit back a sigh and stared into the fire, willing the warmth to chase away the lingering ache.

He felt unprepared and out of step. He thought back to the rabbit from earlier, and wondered just how Brown Eyes would react if Victor told him the truth of the "adorable bunny." Victor shuddered to think about the outcome, sure that he would only be able to see skid marks where Brown Eyes once stood, once he admitted the truth.

He clenched his fist, and looked into the dancing flames.

"So. What happens?"

Victor looked up, to see a tight-faced Brown Eyes. He looked worried, extensively so, if the taut way he held his body was any indication. Victor almost smiled despite the atmosphere, Brown Eyes might not speak much, but when he did (And even when he didn't), his body spoke with him, giving away more than he instinctively knew Brown Eyes would be comfortable with revealing.

Victor zoned back in, and hummed questioningly. Even though he couldn't see himself, he could feel the warmth that must surely be reflected in his eyes.

But the dopey look Victor must be surely aiming his way did nothing to ease the expression on the other boy's face, somehow it become even…. _crunchier._

It was (unsurprisingly) adorable. Like a puppy who didn't know where the drops of water were coming from. Victor felt the warmth travel from his face to this chest, pricking on its way down, and for the first time since the Incident, he felt _glad,_ glad he could see the other boy like this, away from others, and could selfishly hoard every expression he aimed Victor's way.

The pink lips became white, as the words left them, "If you don't find a consort. What happens?"

The warmth in Victor's body chilled, until the skin, which had been unfurling like a flower to Brown Eyes' sun, was raised, like hair exposed to static electricity.

Victor inadvertently shivered.

Brown Eyes' brows furrowed further.

The silence stretched on, the fire's dancing hiding those beautiful brown eyes from Victor's gaze.

Victor steeled his mind, and forced himself to speak, and slowly said, "If, if I-ah, _a Veela_ \- doesn't get a Consort in time for their Maturity Ball…..The _Veela_ will never be able to absorb all the magic in the air, the magic won't take properly, and there is a small chance the Veela might never become Mature. The Veela's magic could suffer."

Brown Eyes seemed as if he had been struck silent. But for the first time since he had met him, Victor wasn't paying attention to Brown Eyes. Victor was breathing slowly, but steadily, a kaleidoscope of emotions running through him.

He had never voiced the worst case scenario before.

He had never even fully acknowledged it in the safety of his own mind.

But now that he had…..it didn't…..seem….

Victor who had always been defined by his Magic, by his proficiency, by his Otherness….Victor clenched his eyes shut, he couldn't explain it, even in his own head. Victor licked his lips, to wet away the sudden dryness at the epiphany.

He….When Victor had first heard that he needed a Consort, he didn't think of the person who would be his…. _his._ He only thought of the possibility of the frequent feelings of rawness in his chest going away. He didn't think of the actual living being behind the Consort role, but only thought of the Magic the Maturity would give him. The benefit of having a Consort was instrumental, not intrinsic.

And now, sitting across a boy who had given him chocolate when Victor was sick, who had used his magic _for_ Victor when Victor was too weak to even hold up his wand, who had flown in and rescued him, and not judged him, who had secreted him away and made him laugh and dream and hope…...the spectre of the elusive Consort wasn't just a template anymore...it was an actual, living person with hopes and wishes of his own.

And Victor wouldn't have anyone else.

It would be an insult to Mother Nature, otherwise. She deserved nothing but Victor's best, and Victor's best would always be beside this boy.

No. Even if his magic would suffer. Victor would rather cut off his feet than dance with anyone else, to make a mockery of the Ball, Magic and Nature.

Victor felt something in himself settle for the first time since he had learnt about Veela Maturity.

Veela choose their Vilenik not because the chosen is the best they could get, but because their chosen is the best person for _them._ It's a choice, always a choice. One Victor would happily make a thousand times over.

For this boy.

Settled and quietly elated, Victor glanced over at the boy in question, only to find the boy breathing heavily, almost like -

Eyes widened, Victor got up quickly, knees cracking at the suddenness, and ran over to the shaking boy's side.

Brown Eyes was trembling slightly, and his eyes were wild. When Victor came to hover near him worriedly, Victor found his shoulders grasped firmly, and Victor barely had a moment to speak before he was hauled up, forehead-to-forehead, and given a closer look to Brown Eyes's eyes than he had ever dreamed of (At this point in time, at least).

Victor wanted to blink in surprise at the turn of events but he didn't want to miss even a second of the resplendent view he was getting, as Brown Eyes struggled to speak.

"You - You are going to _die?"_ Brown Eyes said gutturally, voice cracking at the last word.

Victor almost drew back in extended surprise (And damn if being with Brown Eyes was nothing but surprise after surprise, Victor was going to get forehead lines because of raising his eyebrows so often, if he stayed with this boy for too long…..Victor couldn't wait!), but he was held still by the firm hands on his shoulders.

"No?" Victor said, voice lilting up at the end.

"No?" The voice hadn't lost it's quiet hoarseness, but somehow it managed to sound like a child seeking reassurance.

Victor pressed his forehead more firmly against the other boy's. His own feelings could wait, he decided as he said firmly but softly, almost to the other's lips, willing his own words into the other boy's mouth, to make him _understand._

"No, _my bright-heart,_ no."

Maybe it was the pet-name, or the touch, it might have been the firmness in Victor's tone. But the other boy deflated, his aura lost its hackles, and his forehead softened against Victor.

 _But he didn't move._

With the other boy's eyes closed in presumed relief, Victor got a second to catch up to the events of the past few moments.

Brown Eyes, the boy Victor has just called (And here Victor flushed till he could feel his very soul retreating in shyness) _his bright-heart,_ had been scared. For Victor!

Victor could feel his curled up soul suddenly gain life again, dancing in his chest very much like the bonfire next to them.

 _Settle down, silly._

But despite his better sense Victor couldn't stop feeling like his skin was blooming with joy, the air became clearer, the colors deeper. In his joy, it seemed like his basic magical core was reaching out to the world, extending a hand to it, and saying _won't you dance me?,_ Victor could _feel_ the nearby trees, the sleeping fauna, the eager shyness of the yet-to-bloom-buds, the quicksilver heartbeat of the squirrel in her nest. In his joy, he felt transcendent. He was in Nature, he _was_ Nature.

A warm hand touched his prickling skin, and the hand was careful, framing Victor's bony face gently, like it was handling delicate china. Victor's leaned into the warmth, eyes still closed, as a swoop ran through his body, whirlpooling into his stomach, he felt like he had just touched a wand for the first time.

He breathed, and the world breathed with him.

A thumb, possibly attached to the hand framing Victor's face (And something in Victor giggled hysterically at the other possibility), stroked his cheekbone, and Victor thought of hollow bones and birds in the sky.

He was the air, the sky, the water, the earth. He was the fire cheerfully waving near them, and the sway of the trees, and the wind ruffling through Brown Eyes' hair -

Oh.

Victor slowly opened his eyes. He was lying on the earth, with worried Brown Eyes hovering over him, hand cradling his face, thumb still stroking.

Oh.

Victor smiled, feeling intoxicated with happiness, and nuzzling back into the ( _still stroking)_ thumb, he closed his eyes, and knew no more.

* * *

 _"There are wolves in the forest, Vitya. Be careful."_


End file.
